Mirror Image
by WeatherWatch
Summary: Trauma does strange things to people, and when Multiple Personality Disorder is pre-existing, well, almost anything can happen. Hera's looking for some fun times while Hermione's incapacitated, and half of Hogwarts is looking good.
1. I

**Disclaimer:**** 'T'isn't mine. Shocking, innit? I like mashed peas and mint blended with potato.**

**Challenge from: Beanacre0  
**Hermione Granger isn't just Hermione Granger, but has Multiple Personality Disorder. She has had it all her life, but no one has ever truly noticed except her parents. Mr and Mrs Granger die and Hermione is sent to Hogwarts/Grimauld Place and her other half comes to the forefront in the aftermath of her grief. Hermione/her Alter Ego falls in love over the year or so. Who with and what happens, you decide...  
Rules  
No Slash  
Must be at least 10 Chapters  
Must have fun!

_**Extra note: I've pushed the events of books 6 and 7 back; Draco isn't a Death Eater, Dumbles isn't dead, it is Seventh Year, the war hasn't yet started, Hermione is Head Girl, and the horcruxes aren't yet discovered (by Harry and Co. that is, Dumbles would clearly already know).**_

**Mirror Image**__

Red and blue lights lit up the night sky, illuminating the quaint, white apartments of the suburb of Chelsea. The ambulance was a farce; designed to look like a saviour, when in fact, it was Death. Hermione knew they were both gone; her parents were dead, and it hadn't been a result of the impending war.

A drunken teenager, too young to legally drive solo, had lost control of his parents' sedan and collided head on with the Grangers' smaller car, killing her father instantly, though her mother had taken several agonising moments until her last breath eventually rattled out.

Tangled in the wreckage, Hermione's brain had broken down. Years of compartmentalisation fell apart, and the one thing she had never told anybody threatened to escape.

_Let it happen. Free me and you free yourself._

Hermione had been trapped in the back seat for nearly two hours, her parents lifeless bodies propped up by the metal that had been pushed against them. She had waited, unaware of anything except that they were _gone _and she was being torn in half by her own mind, until finally the firemen had sliced through the door and pulled her to safety and placed her under a thorough medical examination.

Tears were long dried, staining her olive skin as the medics bustled around her efficiently. She picked up fragments of conversation as they murmured 'shock' and 'post traumatic stress' over the top of her head.

_Let go, Hermione._

The young witch was barely aware of being placed upon a stretcher, and she didn't see nor hear the ambulance doors being closed, blocking out the world. Everything was shrouded in a hazy blanket, as if she were encased in bubblewrap.

OoO

Blinking slowly, Hermione recognised the white hospital walls for what they were, and reality came crashing back to her.

An agonised scream, weak but emotional, rang out - the sound brought with it a collection of nurses who held her down as a needle was inserted into her arm, making her feel feeble and drowsy.

No tears were falling, she noticed, though her body was still racked with dry sobs.

"Miss Granger, my name is Maryanne. I'm a nurse." A middle aged woman with blonde hair spoke quietly, but firmly as Hermione's hysterics ceased with the injection of medication. "Are you aware of what has happened in the last twenty four hours?"

"They're- they're…gone-_dead_-I'm all alone again!" Hermione whispered brokenly, finally feeling tears well up in her eyes as her admission sank into her very being. She wasn't sure, when it happened, if the sheer exhaustion or medication had put her to sleep; all she knew was that she was grateful for it.

She heard the inner voice that was both so like and unlike her once more as she fell into a deep sleep.

_You cannot stop what we both want. Escape from the world; leave me in control of our body and our mind. Forget everything._

OoO

The next time Hermione awoke, she was unprepared to see Professor McGonagall peering at her over her glasses, hair still severely tied up in a bun, sporting muggle clothing that differed greatly to her usual robes.

"My dear girl…" Minerva murmured, clasping the young Gryffindor's hand. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione frowned, and let her head fall to the side.

"Empty."

The tubes and machines were frustrating her, and she felt that she could sleep for ever if she was allowed to close her eyes, but respectfully she kept them open, returning her gaze to her Head of House.

"Why are you here, Professor?" She said quietly, trying to keep the raw emotion of grief from her voice. Minerva maintained the gentle grip on her student's hand.

"The hospital has confirmed that you are well enough to go home, but since your only relatives are currently somewhere on the African continent, Hogwarts is the next best place." Minerva informed her. "There are only a handful of students there at the moment; most have left the castle over the break."

Hermione didn't speak.

"If you feel up to it, the other Professors and I believe it would be in your best interests to return to the castle. But it is, essentially, your choice. The other option is likely to be a foster home."

Hermione looked at the older woman for a long moment, before nodding once.

"Okay." She affirmed in a small voice that sounded defeated even to her own ears. Minerva looked sympathetic, but didn't say anything other than, "the Headmaster and I will collect you tomorrow morning". There wasn't anything to say, really. Nothing that would mean the slightest.

After the Transfiguration Professor had left – giving a kind smile and words of comfort – Hermione was left conscious for once, with only her thoughts to occupy her mind. Thoughts; and that inner turmoil of which only her parents had been aware.

Hermione had suffered since childhood from what was known in the muggle world as 'Multiple Personality Disorder'. When she had been very young, there had been numerous personalities, though, as she had aged, they had gradually decreased to a main conflicting pair: her regular self and that which she had given the name Hera. When Hermione was dominant, Hera waited dormant until she could latch on to an opportunity, burying Hermione's awareness in the depths of the mind and leaving her with bouts of selected amnesia.

Hera was Hermione's opposite in many ways. Confidant and sassy, she was the embodiment of Hermione's exhibitionist side - the one that in _Hermione_ was relegated to her desperate need to prove herself intellectually. In _Hera_, it was a dominant trait that led to a kind of sexual deviance and personal confidence that had resulted in many a shopping trip being concluded with more than one pair of expensive, suggestive lingerie making its way into her purchases. More than once, Hermione had found other more embarrassing products, but these were usually hidden, removed or returned at a later date – though she had kept the tongue piercing (the most recent experiment of her alter ego), and the tattoo wasn't likely to be removed either (a sixteenth birthday present of Hera's; a two headed snake that wrapped around the top of her thigh and over her right hip bone).

Where Hermione was shy, Hera was loud; where Hermione was introverted, Hera was extroverted.

Hermione like control, Hera relished relinquishing it all to fate.

Hermione sighed to herself, feeling tired and weak. Perhaps she could relax the bonds she had placed around her mind to prevent Hera from overwhelming her. Perhaps she could escape from the world, if only for a moment.

_Let it happen, Hermione. Let me take control._

She fell into an exhausted sleep once more, not to awaken until the following morning.

OoO

The eyes that opened the next morning were not the usual shade of dark-brown, but almost golden in colour. If Dumbledore noticed this change, however, he didn't comment, greeting her as usual, though the twinkle in his eyes was muted significantly.

The trio eventually left the hospital, having completed all the necessary paperwork, with instructions to 'ensure that Miss Granger ate well, slept well and stayed in good health despite the tragic circumstances surrounding her hospitalisation'.

They Apparated to Hogsmeade, so as to enter the castle grounds via the Eastern gate, but parted company at the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore had other business to attend to, so only Minerva accompanied her favourite student to the Head dormitory.

Naturally, the Head Girl was melancholy; un-smiling and feeling alone, she politely thanked Professor McGonagall before entering the Commons through the portrait hole.

**So, that's my first instalment of 'Mirror Image'. I'm debating over who will be my main male star, but rest assured that it will be a student and not a faculty member. Hmm.**

**Read & Review like a Responsible Reader!**


	2. II

**Disclaimer: I… am left handed. No, I'm not. I also don't own Harry Potter - or anything, really. Except for this neat hat I bought in an op-shop once. **

OoO

Crossing the neutral coloured room, granting a weak smile to the portrait of the Founders, the golden eyed girl entered her room before speaking into the silence.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes flicker between brown and gold, lighting them like a flame.

"Yes?"

"I think it will do you good to fall back for a little while, don't you think?"

A short pause.

"Why are you so adamant about this, Hera? About being in control? It's my body."

"You thought it was a good idea before, Hermione. You remember telling me, don't you, how wonderful it would feel to escape the grief, 'escape the world, if only for a little while'?"

"Well, yes. It hurts so much… but.. why aren't y- how come you are hurting as much as I am?"

"They were more your parents than mine, Hermione, darling. You kept me away from them for a long time. In fact, I think they forgot about me."

"Perhaps."

"It is our body, Hermione. Let yourself heal; relinquish control to me."

"I- Okay."

"Marvellous."

With a slow blink, the eyes returned to a solid golden hue.

Seated on the plush bed covers, Hera mulled over what Hermione had said about her not feeling the loss of their parents as acutely. Perhaps it was because Hermione had kept her restrained so well in the presence of others, or perhaps it was a personality trait; Hera wasn't one for weaknesses, and she believed quite considerably in Fate – in certain circumstances.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the less importance she placed on _who_ was dead; it was decidedly clearer to Hera that two sources of tangible comfort were gone, rather than two people – her parents – were dead.

Glancing at the mirror on the wall above the bed, Hera lazily observed the reflection – it was so similar to Hermione, but held so very differently. She stood and entered the bathroom to refresh after days spent in the hospital.

OoO

Water caressing the skin was one of Hera's favourite sensations, and she sighed happily as the streaming jets propelled warm water over her. Her dainty hands were covered with bath gel and she ran them sensuously over body, cleansing herself. Slowly, as the suds were washed away, she closed her eyes and let her hands wander with more purpose, over the taut skin of her stomach, up to the curve of her breasts, pinching her nipples lightly.

Hera craved touch, whether it was her own or another's, and as the warm water fell over her she let her hands give her the only comfort she knew.

Several minutes later, the seventeen year old was drying her hair magically, while she donned a racy, matching set of red lingerie. It was particularly frilly, and what wasn't frilly was lacy, but Hera adored these particular undergarments. They were liberating, even if she wasn't engaged in activities where they would be seen.

She had thrown on a pair of suspenders to hold up her thigh-high stockings and donned an oversized black jumper with a neckline so large that it required her to pull it up over her shoulder time and time again, and, when she had deemed herself properly dressed, returned to the Common room with a trashy romance that Hermione never approved of and plonked herself onto the couch.

She read for a little while, but appeared to spend more of her time adjusting her position on the beige couch. First, she was cross-legged, then lying length ways across it, on the floor with her arms only on the piece of furniture, back on the couch, legs over the armrest, until finally she managed to get comfortable upside down with one leg on the headrest and the other hanging over the arm, swinging gently as she continued to read.

The silence was broken abruptly as the door to the other Head's room was flung carelessly open to reveal Hermione's almost arch-nemesis. Draco Malfoy stood at the door frame, but hadn't made it any further because of the girl staring blatantly at him from the couch.

Normally, the presence of the other was enough to incite a small riot, but Draco (having been briefed on the tragic happenings in Know-It-All Granger's life) was treading cautiously, and the Head Girl (being Hera at this point in time) was all too busy ogling the unclothed male torso before her eyes and wishing that the blond's jeans would suddenly decided to fall off.

A number of silent minutes passed, where the only sound was the quiet breaths being released by the two students.

"Granger." Draco finally broke the tension, carefully preventing any emotion from leaking into the greeting. He was unnerved to see a smile grace the face of the girl before him, briefly wondered whether he should be concerned about impending physical injury, and then felt confusion as her eyes – normally brown – fell on his face. They were a disconcerting shade of gold.

Giving him barely a moment to consider this, the girl had released her clutch on the book and darted towards him.

"Hello, Draco Abraxas Malfoy." She purred, breaking the unmentioned-but-mutually-agreed-upon-minimal-distance between them. Her eyes still hadn't left his, but Draco carefully masked his features into something akin to casual observance, despite the disturbing use of his full name.

"You are being good today – no nasty names even." She murmured, reaching out and pressing her hand to his chest, feeling the muscle below tense at her touch.

"Granger?"

Draco took a step back and realised that, as his back met wood, in her approach Granger had manoeuvred him up against the wall. Oh boy.

She was gently drawing patterns on his lithe torso now, and he was struggling to keep focused on his thoughts – all hope nearly flew out the window when she stepped even closer and swept her tongue over his left nipple.

"Grang- Hermione!" He forced out, gripping her wrists tightly in his hands and removing them from his person.

"Hermione's in mourning, Draco." She told him, looking up at him through long dark lashes.

"Are you referring to yourself in third person?" He asked, giving her a strange look that clearly declared he thought her mental.

"Oh no. Hermione and I are very much two different people." Hera answered him, moving their hands lower as he became more interested in the conversation than his defensive strategy. "Can't you tell? Look at me properly." She crooned, feeling his grip go lax.

He complied with her unusual request, and found that whoever this incarnation of Hermione Granger was, she did indeed appear subtly different. The eyes were one obvious feature, being gold instead of brown, but her whole demeanour was challenging and dominant, and her posture was confidant and proper. He supposed there were other differences too, but those were most evident to him.

Her hands, now free, returned to their earlier journey, slipping over his hips and around his back to dip between the denim and his skin as her own body drew itself flush against him, allowing her to feel his rising erection.

"Who are you?" He whispered shakily, her lips inching closer by the millisecond. She paused close enough that he could feel her breath ghosting over his lips.

"I am Hera."

Breaching the distance between them, Draco let himself go like the hormonal teenage boy that he was. She responded to his kiss with fervour, barely wincing as his hands latched onto her curls, forcibly switching their positions. He was surprised to feel the metal that pierced her tongue, but had no chance to comment as she raised her legs around his waist, causing the jumper to ride up to her waist, revealing the top of her stocking and the suspenders. Had he looked properly, Draco would also have noticed the tail of the snake tattoo, but before the situation could escalate a sharp knock echoed through the Common Room.

Draco almost dropped Hera in shock, but she seemed to be more alert than he was as she straightened her clothes and answered the portrait, leaving him standing there a little dazed.

"Professor McGonagall. Come in, please. Draco won't be a moment; he's just in his room, I believe." She said pointedly, and Draco scurried to get out of sight – and put on a shirt. Regardless of the new Granger, he didn't fancy having to stand around half naked before a Professor.

When he did emerge, McGonagall was seated on the couch beside Hera, but the older woman was clearly unaware of the personality change in her favourite student. The girl kept sending casual glances his way, her eyes smiling, as she answered the teacher's questions politely and accurately.

"Professor, I'd appreciate it if you would inform Harry and Ron of- of the recent events. But tell them not to worry for me, and to enjoy the rest of their break."

McGonagall agreed, sympathy etched on her features, and noted it in her small diary.

"Mister Malfoy, I hope that as Head Boy you will take care of Miss Granger, and be another solid support for her over the next few weeks."

Draco turned his head quickly to look back at McGonagall and nodded, hoping he hadn't been caught staring at Granger.

"Of course, Professor." He agreed, although Hera – despite her clear sexuality – made him feel slightly uneasy. Said girl smiled like the cat that got the cream.

"Malfoy has already begun to take care of things, and he's acted admirably so far." Hera inserted. McGonagall looked impressed, aware that both students were usually at it like cat and mouse (though unaware that she had only just managed to arrive in time before they were at it like rabbits), and farewelled them both, stating that she'd understand if Miss Granger desired to miss dinner in the Great Hall that evening.

As soon as the portrait hole was closed, Draco's attention had firmly planted itself on Hera. She smirked at him.

"Who are you, Hera?" He asked her suspiciously, still feeling the lust coursing through his body though he abstained from making any further moves.

"Hermione and I are one and the same, and complete opposites. I am, I suppose, her alter ego. Multiple Personality Disorder, if you want to give it a name." Hera told him casually. "While Hermione is mourning our parents, I have decided to come out and play."

The look she gave him as she spoke that last word shot to Draco's groin, and he both damned her and was amazed by her as she stood gracefully and glided towards the chair on which he sat.

Straddling him, she raised the hem of his shirt.

"I don't think this is necessary." She said silkily, and stripped him of it quickly, her hands running over his chest once again. Draco almost growled.

"If I lose mine, then you lose yours."

She considered this for a moment, and Draco was vaguely aware of the gold eyes flickering back to dark-brown for a split second, the small smile that teased the corners of her mouth vanishing momentarily. Almost before he was aware of the change, the gold enveloped her irises once again and she smirked.

"Fair enough."

The oversized jumper was deftly removed and Draco was aware of his eyes widening as he was greeted with the sight of her breasts, tantalisingly wrapped in the red lingerie.

"We like that, do we?" He heard Hera murmur, before she dipped her head towards his neck and began to nibble the pale skin that was neither his neck, nor his shoulder, but which gave him shivers of delight. Any feelings of unease were washed away by a tide of hormones.

OoO

They hadn't removed any other pieces of clothing, but Draco had come harder than he ever had with Pansy. He was still sitting, shirtless, in the chair where Hera had left him, choosing to make an appearance at dinner sooner rather than later.

Draco felt strange.

Hera disturbed him a little, though he did acknowledge that she was a veritable goddess when it came to things of a sexual nature. He was watching the flames in the fireplace, barely noticing time pass by, when Hera arrived in the Common Room again, her hunger sated.

She sat on the arm rest, leaning against him for balance.

"You scare me." Draco finally admitted, to be answered with a laugh. She held his chin gently and kissed his forehead.

"You worry over trivial things." She said. "I just wanted to see what you felt like; to feel someone near me."

The blond removed his gaze from the flames and fixed it on Hera's face.

She looked amused.

"As good as it was - can we not do it again." Draco requested, sounding remarkably like a child to her ears. He recalled the second when Hermione's awareness had appeared, and felt the foreign sense of guilt and unease wash over him.

"If that's what you want." She replied, though he knew she maintained the amused expression. "I'm not completely abhorrent, though Hermione called me a sexual deviant many times, and there are, after all, several other young men with whom I can find entertainment."

The blatant suggestion really wasn't doing anything to help dissuade the uncomfortable feeling Hera built up in Draco, but he took comfort from her agreement to not accost him again. Regardless of how much he enjoyed it.

"I take it you have someone in mind?" Draco pressed, wanting to keep the topic off himself.

She sent a carefree grin his way and nodded.

"Several someones, as I said before."

"Physical closeness isn't a very good way to appease grief." Draco pointed out so astutely that Hera stopped and looked at him seriously for several long seconds, half naked in front of her, still in the chair where she had left him.

"You're much nicer these days, Draco. I think we could've been friends if you hadn't been such a git." She said quietly, resting her palm on his cheek. "Or if Hermione hadn't shut me out so often." She added thoughtfully, though he noted that she didn't respond to his statement.

She looked to the fire.

"You should get some dinner, Draco."

**Booyahhhh. Chapter two! I love being on a roll. So, Draco picked up on something important. He showed some astuteness rarely observed in teenage boys, and is slightly creeped out by Hera, but hey, he's spent seven years being completely turned ****off**** by Hermione, that the whole doppelganger thing is freaking him out a little bit. Fair enough. =D **


	3. III

**Disclaimer: Not belonging to moi. Or you either. Probably. If you are indeed JKR, please leave a review saying so. That'd be awesome. And I could gloat to all my friends. Haha.**

Hermione felt a little dizzy when her eyes flickered open in the early morning light. Dazedly, she rolled over, before suddenly sitting bolt upright and feeling her stomach drop as if she was in particularly rough turbulence while travelling by aeroplane. Her parents were dead, and Hera was in control of her body.

"Oh my god. Merlin, Morgana and Mordred." She exclaimed, louder than strictly necessary as she recalled a flash of memory from the previous night. She glanced down at her clothes to see a skimpy pink silk slip of nightwear. Rather than get changed, she stormed into the Common Room with a look of panic on her face to see Draco sitting by the fire reading the Daily Prophet.

He glanced up at her entrance.

When she stopped in front of him, several things dropped in on her awareness: one, that she was standing in only a very skimpy night dress before Draco Malfoy, two, exactly what answer she was going to be demanding from him, and three, he was still not wearing a shirt. Really, it was no wonder Hera had jumped him.

Blushing profusely, Hermione couldn't raise her eyes to meet his gaze, though he wanted her to do so in order to determine who he was about to converse with.

"Erm, Malfoy, what…exactly happened when, erm, last night?" She managed to expel the jumble of words, and hoped that he knew what she was talking about and didn't think her mad. Madder than he already did, she amended in her head.

He looked amused, and she almost blanched in fear of his response.

"Did we...?" She asked weakly, and was relieved to see him shake his blond head.

"We didn't have sex." He told her calmly. "At least, Hera and I didn't have sex. You're pretty much the same person though, how come you don't remember?"

"I suppose she explained about the Dissociative Identity Disorder, then." Hermione guessed. "The dormant personality isn't aware of what's happening. It's like amnesia."

Draco nodded in understanding.

"Ah."

"But I, um, managed to wake up, so to speak, if only for a moment, and all I could remember from then was the fact that you were half naked, I was about to lose my jumper and we were in a position that I have previously never, ever been in with you."

Hermione's blush increased.

"Never, ever even _imagined_ I'd be in with you."

Draco nodded, but looked somewhat amused by her last comment.

"I saw that. It freaked me out too. It's one of the reasons why I'm never going to get in that position with Hera again. She's kind of disturbing at the best of times, but I felt like I was abusi-" Draco cut himself off suddenly, and cleared his throat. "Yeah, it won't happen again. Don't worry."

He smiled awkwardly, and Hermione was suddenly aware that it was perhaps the only civil conversation they had ever held.

The revelation didn't last long however, as her brown eyes became flecked with gold.

"Hermione, I think you should go back now."

"Don't tell me what to do, Hera. If I go, it's because I want to go, not because you control me."

"You won't last out here yet, not without our parents. It's too soon."

Her eyes flared brown violently, but the gold swept over them like water and when the brunette witch looked up at Draco, he knew that Hermione had been buried in her own mind once more.

"Good morning, Draco." Hera greeted, without the leer that she had been directing towards him the previous night. He immediately felt more at ease with the alter ego. It was almost like they were friends.

OoO

Draco and Hera decided to walk to breakfast together, and it gave the blond boy the chance to ask some questions he'd been pondering since the events of the day before.

"Does any of the teaching staff know about this Multiple Personality thing?"

Hera didn't look at him, but he saw her head tilt to the side a little.

"None." She answered him. "In fact, I'd say that you're the only other person, besides our parents, to know."

"Really? Not even Potter?" He said in disbelief as they turned the corner into the Entrance Hall.

"Mmm. Harry has his own problems, and Ronald-" She paused. "Ronald wouldn't understand."

She looked a little disappointed, and Draco noticed the brown in her eyes darken slightly, but it didn't last long – Hera was clearly in control.

"How long have you had the metal through your tongue?" He queried, raising a fine eyebrow.

"Not long - the beginning of the holidays, if I'm to be completely honest." She told him, playing with the silver bauble between her teeth and then letting it poke through her closed lips. "Hermione didn't mind it, either. Normally she hates the things I get done while she's dormant."

"Like the tattoo?" Draco commented wryly, thinking of how proper Hermione was in comparison to her alter ego. "I bet that went down well. What is it anyway, I couldn't tell?"

Hera wrinkled her nose.

"A two headed snake. And she wouldn't shut up about it for days after I got it done." She complained, and linked her arm with Draco's unexpectedly. "It was a sixteenth birthday present, too. How ungrateful."

The look on her face was trying to be indignant, but the laughing look in her eyes rather prevented the expression from succeeding, and she laughed.

When they arrived at the doors, Hera grinned wickedly and Draco felt apprehensive in her presence once more, but followed her into the Great Hall.

"Just a little show, I think."

He heard her whisper the words, but didn't register them until the petite witch grasped him chin lightly and planted a kiss just too close to the corner of his mouth for it to be considered simply friendly, her lips lingering there before she casually strolled up to the circular table where all of the current castle inhabitants were taking their morning meal.

"Thanks for walking with me, Draco."

Colin Creevey, a fellow Gryffindor and one time victim of Draco's, look gobsmacked, and Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw from their year, looked between the two with a confused expression. The other students recovered quicker (most were in the younger years and therefore unaware of the fierce rivalry between the two students that had, apparently, disintegrated overnight).

McGonagall's expression was shrewd, and she stared at Draco for several long moments before accepting that her favourite student had acted of her own will, and was in remarkably better spirits.

Hera had chosen to place herself beside Boot, her chair inappropriately close – practically invading his personal space – and Draco seated himself opposite her, intent on getting some food into his system.

"How are you this morning, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked over the gentle hum that had started up again, buttering his toast and dropping a healthy dollop of orange marmalade onto it. "Better, I presume."

The girl in question looked as though she was going to call the Headmaster out, and reveal that she was actually Hera, but after several seconds of silence she chose to keep them ignorant.

"Much, Professor. Draco is being very kind, and I think we've made more progress towards friendship in the last twenty four hours than in our previous six years of schooling." She informed the Headmaster, taking a croissant from one of the baskets.

Terry, sitting to her left, was subtly eyeing the hem of her high-waisted skirt, which had ridden up as she sat down and was currently showing off the lacy top of her thigh highs stockings.

Hera smiled to herself.

Her upper torso was covered by a baggy woollen jumper, making her look quite presentable, and Hermione would never be expected of the actions that Hera was considering in her mind…

Surreptitiously, her left hand made its way off the table and onto her thigh, sliding the fabric further up her limb as the others continued to munch on their breakfast, blissfully unaware.

Terry, however, was more than aware, as her hand made its way onto his own thigh, squeezing gently near his knee, before trailing slowly higher.

His sharp intake of breath was noted only by Hera and Draco (who looked at her suspiciously), though Colin seemed to glance their way for a millisecond as well.

Concentrating on eating her breakfast with her other hand, Hera traced slow, sensuous circles as she made her way towards his crotch. Her fingers brushed his cock through the denim jeans, and Terry rather violently brought his hand against the table, causing McGonagall to gaze at him, affronted by his table manners. His cheeks went pink.

"Sorry… elbow slipped." The Ravenclaw mumbled the strained apology, and Draco narrowed his eyes at Hera, before rolling them in annoyance and finishing his bacon, pointedly ignoring her from that point onward.

Keeping her hand on his thigh, she drew circles with her thumb for the remainder of the meal, driving Terry crazy. Once finished with her meal, she abruptly left the table, sending a dazzling smile to the distracted Ravenclaw before darting out of the hall.

"What the hell was that?" Draco hissed shortly after, having gracefully followed her out of the hall.

Hera shrugged, smirking at his agitation.

"Boot wasn't complaining."

Draco ran his hand through his hair in defeat while they traipsed along the corridor. He couldn't argue with that, really.

OoO

A quiet knock sounded throughout the Head Dorms, and Hera – who had been rearranging Hermione's wardrobe layout – wandered into the Commons to answer it.

"I've got it, Draco." She called as she pulled open the door to see Colin Creevey standing in the corridor.

Stunned silent for a few seconds, she smiled brightly at the boy.

"Colin, how are you?" She inquired, just as Draco poked his head out from his room to identify their guest.

"Oh. Creevey." He stated, sounding surprised. "Wasn't expecting _you_."

With that said the Slytherin ducked back into his room and shut the door, leaving Colin slightly bewildered.

"Um. Fine." He mumbled in response to her earlier question as he swivelled back to face the Head Girl.

"Do you mind if we go into my room? I was just fiddling with some things." Hera said, already halfway across the room. Her brown curls flicked to the side when she threw a quick glance at the lanky Gryffindor to see if he was acquiescing, and she smiled as he trailed behind her.

She'd never really had much to do with Colin, though he was usually quite cheerful and friendly enough to his fellow Gryffindors. He had been a bit of clown in his younger years, but now he preferred to keep a low profile and focus on his photography.

When they entered, Hera's clothes, or rather Hermione's, were strewn across the bedroom, lying haphazardly over her desk, chairs and dresser, though her bed was mostly cleared now. It was there she indicated Colin should sit.

Colin stole one look at the items – the majority being underwear – and purposefully averted his eyes to the more neutral wall while Hera went back to her ordering, amused by his very straight posture.

"I had some things to ask you." Colin explained, and Hera noted the way he didn't say 'Hermione' (after all, the pair of Gryffindors weren't so close that he'd be so frank) and filed the information away.

"Go on." She said, curious, as she gathered several of the expensive shirts and folded them neatly.

"You know how I enjoy photography, clearly. I mean, back in first year I was a bit of a menace…" He trailed off with a wry smile. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd agree to do some modelling for me – for a competition I'm entering."

Hera raised an eyebrow, but, as she was facing the wardrobe, Colin didn't see the movement.

"A competition?" She reiterated, tapping her index finger against her bottom lip. "Interesting."

Feeling emboldened, Colin continued.

"There are themes each week of the competition. You get points for each entry, and, at the end, the winner is the one with the most points."

Hera considered it thoughtfully before nodding slowly in agreement. It sounded like a bit of fun, and she liked having her photo taken.

"Alright."

Colin beamed at her, jumping up and giving her a quick hug. She returned it awkwardly, having not engaged in a platonic relationship for a long time – Draco's recent delegation to that station notwithstanding.

"Oh, also, could you tell me how to get into the Room of Requirement?" He added, and tilted his head to the side like a puppy. "I want to use it as a darkroom."

OoO

Hera didn't see Terry at lunch, and spent a quiet afternoon reading in unorthodox positions on the couch once again, while Draco worked on Potions in his room. At five thirty, she got changed into some warmer clothing fit for wandering the cold castle floors, though the crimson top was still revealing enough cleavage to draw any heterosexual male's eye – as Draco demonstrated when she walked into the Commons.

"Regretting your decision already?" She said sweetly, causing Draco's eyes to move quickly back to her face.

"Not a chance." He retorted, donning a classy dark green sweater. She smirked and led the way through the portrait hole, swaying her hips just to taunt the Malfoy heir. He pushed her lightly from behind and she laughed, managing to pull a small smile from Draco in the process.

When they arrived at their destination, Hera was put out to see the seat beside Terry taken by a Hufflepuff of the year below. She fiddled with her tongue piercing as she sat opposite him.

"Evening." She said demurely, aware that Dumbledore and the other adults were watching her and cataloguing her actions after the recent tragic events.

Terry hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd wandered into the hall, a fact which she was quite aware of, but, as she sat, she chose not to look over at him (much to his disappointment). Instead, she let Hermione stretch her mind a little and began a conversation with Professor Sinistra while she selected what she wanted for dinner, occasionally answering questions from the other teachers.

Halfway through the meal, Terry was looking a little sullen and Hera made sure Hermione was buried in their mind before she slipped off her shoe and raised a long leg, stretching it underneath the table.

Touching her toes to Terry's leg, she withheld a laugh when he started rather visibly.

"Mr Boot, are you quite alright?" McGonagall inquired, looking at the poor Ravenclaw with disapproval. "You've been rather jumpy today; perhaps you should make a visit to Madam Pomfrey?"

Terry cleared his throat awkwardly and blushed.

"Maybe, marm." He agreed, voice slightly higher than normal as Hera ran her foot from his ankle to knee, pulling the bottom of his pant-leg upwards before letting it fall back down.

Hera kept her eyes away from his face intentionally, but smiled inwardly as Terry tried to regain control of his breathing. She adored the feeling of power that came from a simple touch; making men squirm with pleasure was possibly her favourite pastime.

Her foot moved higher, at a tantalising pace, and rubbed over his thigh before grazing over Terry's groin. He managed to hold in the spasm this time, but his intake of breath was audible enough that he had to follow it with a strained, "stomach ache".

Rhythmically sliding her foot over his crotch, feeling the slight pressure of his cock as it grew erect within the restraints of his pants, Hera watched as Boot slowly came apart.

Feeling devious and horny, she finally looked up at the dark haired teen, concern on her face.

"Terry, are you sure you're alright?" She asked in apparent worry for the Ravenclaw. "I've got a bit of a headache coming on, so you can walk with me to the Hospital Wing if you'd like."

She stood gracefully, sliding her shoes back onto her foot and made to go to the doorway. Terry looked nervously at the others before nodding his head jerkily and quickly excusing himself. Only two of the remaining table guests observed the awkward manner in which he walked from the room, following closely behind Hera.

Sure to maintain the necessary distance between them, Hera only slowed when she reached the third corridor on the floor above. She smirked and leaned back against the stone wall, one leg bent against it, waiting for Terry to catch up.

When he did, the tall boy stood close to her, so close she could smell his masculine deodorant. She pulled him into the alcove beside them and his arms reached out to plant themselves either side of her curly head.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" He murmured rhetorically, forehead resting against hers, before aggressively bringing their mouths together, sandwiching her against the wall.

Hera's adrenalin was pumping, and the kiss was heated and escalating quickly. Moving her mouth from his lips to his neck, she felt him shiver as the metal bauble on her tongue brushed his skin.

"Help me forget." She whispered into his ear, pulling him closer so she could feel the bulge in his pants and find some kind of friction for the growing ache in her core.

Terry's hands were roaming over her breasts, kneading, pinching and caressing and making her own breaths come in quick gasps. He paused for a split second as his fingers found the flimsy fabric of her knickers.

"Are you- are you sure?" He asked as Hera's legs came around his waist. She murmured a husky yes, and reached between them to unbuckle his belt as he ripped away the light material.

**Dun Dun Duuun. Chapter 3, and Hera's being naughty. LeGaspe. **


	4. IV

**Disclaimerus! Not mine. All hail JKR.**

Breathing heavily, Hera smiled lazily and played with the downy hair at the base of Terry's neck. It was blue. She hadn't noticed that before – it must have been hidden by the longer, brown, top layer.

Gingerly, she slid her legs back to the ground and balanced herself, aware that Terry had been practically holding her upright the whole time.

"Thank you." She said, as she fixed her skewed clothes. She considered using reparo on the torn knickers but decided that Boot deserved at least a little trophy. After all, she was going to be playing with him and he needed something to keep him interested and reminded of her.

"Terry," She said silkily. "Would you mind terribly if we- if we didn't tell people about this?" She stammered intentionally, making her voice sound a little sad and hopeful. Ah, the power of being female; he wouldn't even dream of arguing with her when she sounded so pitiful.

"Of course." Terry answered, brushing a stray curl of hair off her face and kissing her gently.

"And Terry?" She added. "When we're in private – call me Hera."

Terry's brow furrowed.

"I guess I can do that… but why?"

"Nobody else will call me that, it'll be special for us."

Okay, so it was a blatant lie. After all, Draco called her that in the Head Dorms because he knew the truth. However, everyone else still thought she was Hermione, so if she started prancing around as Hera, the teachers would involve themselves and she'd end up like before: packaged in the back of Hermione's mind. Yes, it was definitely a good idea to keep up the premise that she was Hermione.

"Fine; I like the sound of that."

The little witch stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek and then flounced off down the hallway, leaving Terry feeling confused, happy and spent, his hair mussed and his pants unzipped, releasing a long whooshing breath when she had finally disappeared around the corner.

OoO

"What have you been doing?" Draco asked from his place on the couch, sounding bored – he probably was, she noted, because it looked like he was perusing his Divination textbook.

"Boot." She answered succinctly, and he immediately perked up.

"Oh? I shouldn't be surprised really, should I?" He posed aloud. "I hope he won't be hanging around here as much as Potty and Weasel did before the holidays."

Hera ignored him and walked into her bedroom to see one of the school owls sitting outside the window on the sill. She opened the window to let it in and the bird squawked in thanks to be taken out of the cold air.

"What have you got for me, birdy?" She mumbled, grabbing the parchment from its leg and feeding it a treat. Happy, the magical animal took off for the Owlery.

_First task has come through; the theme is snow (original, I know). Tomorrow, 11 o'clock at the Entrance Hall? Colin._

Hera grinned happily. She'd been a little distracted with Terry and had forgotten about her scheduled photography rendezvous with the younger Gryffindor. She scribbled an affirmative response at the bottom and recited a clever little spell that folded the paper into a crane that flew off to find the recipient.

"Draco?" She called out. "Did you know Terry has blue hair?"

"It really doesn't interest me." He replied, his voice sounding distant; he must have retired to his room.

"That's a shame. I'd pay to watch you two together."

A loud bang was followed by Draco's head appearing in the doorway, a scowl on his face.

"Don't ever put those images into my head. Never again. Don't even say our names in the same sentence." He roused, but she merely laughed at his affronted expression.

"I won't promise anything more to you, Draco." She said snidely. "You've already vetoed my idea to spend our evenings playing fun, adult games for two. It was a great idea! So promising…"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Let's hope it stays that way."

She made a non committal sound in the back of her throat.

"How many of the kids still here are in our year?" She wondered aloud, mostly to herself, though Draco deigned to respond.

"Only a couple: Boot, you, me, and Hopkins. The others are sixth years, or younger." He said as he picked a bit of lint off his sleeve.

"Baddock - he's a Slytherin, isn't he?" Hera asked curiously, remembering the floppy haired sixth year.

His body was quite lithe and he had dark brown hair – nothing special, really – but his eyes were something else entirely. Of such a pale blue that they seemed to stare right through the flesh and into the soul. He was quiet, but observant and he was definitely the one that all the female students whispered about during study sessions and girls nights.

"Yes. Why?" Draco asked sharply, scrutinising Hera from his place in the doorway.

"Curiosity, I suppose - and the fact that his eyes really are quite lovely." She told the Head Boy nonchalantly.

OoO

"Coooolin." Hera sang, catching sight of the sixteen year old the next morning. His professional camera hung on a black strap around his neck.

"Hey, ready to go?" He greeted. "I've got a few ideas to get through, and then we can choose the best photo to send in."

"Wonderful."

And it was.

Colin wasn't incompetent at all - he was organised and ran through his concepts with Hera before having her take her hair out of its tie, and engorging a small object that he brought out of his pocket. It was a jacket.

The clothing article was a beautiful white coat, furry and soft – like one of those Samoyed dogs her muggle neighbours used to have – and absolutely stunning.

"Oh, Colin! That's gorgeous." She exclaimed, reaching out a hand to stroke the fur. "What's it for?"

"If you don't mind, it's what I'd like to have you in for the shoot."

Hera giggled as she donned the beautiful coat, pulling it around her face as she smiled, revelling in the luxury and making Colin grin, sneakily taking a snapshot of her as she laughed.

With Christmas just passed, there was still a fair layering of snow on the ground and on the branches of the pine trees around them which Colin had chosen to utilise for their photoshoot. One of the bigger pines had a delicate spattering of snow on its low hanging branches that looked so picture perfect that even Hera could understand the creative reasoning behind it.

"Okay, so let's get set up here."

"I'm all yours, maestro."

Colin sighed laughingly at her joking attitude, and instructed her to stand behind the tree; beside the tree; against the tree, while he snapped photos of her. She was laughing in most, and her eyes – golden and alive – were bright and happy.

After, she threw up some snow into the air, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the grey skies as it rained down upon her, poking out her tongue to catch the flakes.

"This is so much fun!" Hera squealed, throwing a handful of the light snow at Colin, who turned to protect his camera and was subsequently pummelled in the back of the head with the snowball, making the brunette laugh harder.

"Watch the camera!" He shouted back, but his face was full of laughter. Hera pulled her wand.

"_Impervius_." She murmured, and smiled, feeling quite self-satisfied. "There, now leave it on the bench and play with me!" She begged, letting a little whine into her voice. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed playing in the snow. It was one of the most annoying aspects of being an only child; no one to play with but oneself and one's alter egos. Not necessarily conducive to oodles of fun.

All things considered, Colin was a pretty good shot with a snowball it appeared and Hera eventually surrendered – after a particularly thrilling, and slightly demoralising onslaught – walking over to where the sixth year stood with her hands in the air.

"I give up." She laughed, pink in the cheeks and feeling real happiness – happiness that, for once, hadn't come from a sense of domination or sexual exploration. Colin smirked.

Unfortunately for him, Hera had a backup plan for failure, and when she was under the tree branches she jumped, and her raised hands knocked the limb, causing a heap of snow to plough onto Colin's sandy brown hair.

He yelped as some of it went down his back and Hera broke into howls of laughter.

"Not fair!" Colin argued, but his eyes, like hers, were bright.

Hera ruffled the snow out of his hair as she walked past him to the bench, sitting down feeling utterly exhausted from their intense snow-battle, and still giggling intermittently.

OoO

"You look entirely too happy with yourself." Draco observed from beside the fireplace. "What did you do now?"

Hera smiled freely.

"First photoshoot today. I was given a beautiful fur coat, and a snowball fight, and several dozen brilliant photos of me." She grinned. "Why wouldn't I be happy?"

She practically skipped into her room, shutting the door to stop the blond from hearing the following conversation, and flopped onto the large bed, relaxing completely and letting brown infiltrate the golden hue of her irises.

"Hera?"

"Hermione – are feeling my joy?"

"Some of it… Why? What did you do?"

"So little faith…"

A smirk.

"Fine, don't tell me. But I am feeling better now; less empty…angrier more than anything else."

"So you should be - our parents' death was a stupid accident that should never have happened."

A sigh.

"You haven't, you know, done anything with Dra- Malfoy, have you?"

"No! I promised him, and he promised you – whatever he said. But the others are all fair game."

"Oh my god, you haven't? Not again…"

"Boot is really quite talented."

"We slept with Terry!"

"Trust me, there was _no_ sleeping. It was during dinner in an enclave on the way to the Hospital Wing, for future reference."

"Oh, Merlin."

"That's what he said, but he sounded more pleased."

Smirk.

"Why did I ever let you have any control over my body?"

"Our body. And because part of you likes it. Part of you is just like me, and you never let it out to play. But don't worry, I'm not in love with him; I just like the sex."

"You love mortifying me, don't you, Hera."

"Yes. It's my favourite pastime. Why else do think I got the tattoo where I did?"

"Anything else you'd like to tell me?"

"We're Colin Creevey's new muse, and he's photographing us for a competition. And we got to keep the gorgeous coat he gave me for the shoot. He's such a sweetie. He even played in the snow with me for a while. I've missed that."

"That's not a euphemism, is it?"

A snicker.

"No. It was an innocent snowball fight. Now, keep on with your inner healing."

"But I'm not rea-"

It was the gold this that flared up, overwhelming the brown until was a solid gold once more that peered out over the room.

OoO

An hour before dinner, Hera sought out Terry for snog. He was in the library, studying quietly while Madam Pince restacked the shelves.

"Afternoon, Terry." She purred, planting her hands on the back of his chair and leaning over his shoulder to read what he had written down.

"Hermione – this is a nice surprise." Terry smiled, turning his head to drop a quick peck to her cheek. "Care to join me?"

"That depends," she answered cheekily. "Are we studying theory or practical magic?"

"Theory…unless you can persuade me otherwise." He added with a quirked brow.

Hera's fingers played with the section of blue hair at the base of his neck and she observed Terry continue with writing his homework.

Both she and Hermione loved a challenge.

"Oh, really?"

Hera smirked and moved around to straddle the Ravenclaw on his chair. "Is this going to convince you?"

Terry appeared to consider it, but shook his head.

"Nope, I'm still thinking theory."

Hera slid her hands up Terry's body sensually and felt his shiver. Leaning forward, she whispered into his ear, "how about now?"

"Not quite."

He was lying, she knew, but she admired his attempt to pretend he was unaffected.

Finally, she brought her lips to his and kissed him deeply.

"Has that convinced you?" She whispered against his lips when she pulled away.

Terry swallowed thickly.

"I think I'm persuaded." He answered huskily, looping his hands behind her and kissing her once again with enough force that she was pressed between the desk and Terry's body.

He was fun to kiss, and Hera let her hands run free – a liberty which they used to undo the top three buttons of Terry's shirt.

A severe clearing of the throat effectively brought the snog session to a halt, and both teens clamoured to separate themselves as Madam Pince glared at them for acting so hormonally in The Library.

Awkwardly and blushing furiously, Terry righted his clothing, and collected his things and the two fled the library, Hera giggling madly.

Oh, she'd have some fun with Terry if he kept letting her choose the setting for their rendezvous', she thought; but as they stumbled through the doors into the Great Hall, early for dinner, Hera glimpsed Malcolm Baddock sitting at the Slytherin table. He seemed to know she was watching him, because suddenly his head rose up from the book he was engrossed in, and his ice blue eyes were piercing hers.

She lifted a dainty eyebrow and removed her gaze, mulling over ideas for her plan to seduce the sixth year Slytherin.

Hermione would have kittens.

**Another chapter finite incantum-ed! Hera's such a man-izer… but school is going to start up again soon, so things might get a little hectic for little miss alter ego…**

**Please, Read & Review like a Responsible Ravenclaw!**


	5. V

**Disclaimer: It is not in any way mine. I think you know that by now. **

The holidays drew to a close, and Hera found herself with only one day left until her two boys were back by her side, asking for help with their homework and nosing about her business. She'd have to be careful of Harry in particular, who seemed to only ever showed his keen observation skills when she wanted to keep something a secret.

Maybe she would just let Hermione deal with them, Hera considered, knowing that she was still much stronger in sheer will than Hermione was after the events of Christmas.

Yes, she thought. Hermione could handle Harry and Ron just fine, and she would manage the others.

A letter from Colin tore Hera away from her ponderings as it fell into her pumpkin juice. It was the next theme, no doubt, for the next photoshoot. He'd already been and gone, preferring to eat breakfast early.

_Hey Miss Muse,_

_Next theme's going to be 'hair'. I'm thinking some close-ups this time, perhaps? Tonight at about four o'clock in Gryffindor Tower, if you can make it._

_Colin_

She grinned at the greeting; Colin was such a laugh. It sounded good to her, so she pulled out a muggle pen to scribble a quick smiley face on the back of the slip of parchment and sent it off with the tawny school owl.

Picking up her things, she gave a smile and a wave to Terry before walking past the other tables to the doorway. As she exited, she threw a cheeky wink at Baddock while Terry's head was turned, spun on her heel and disappeared out the double doors.

OoO

Fifteen minutes later, Hera was lying sprawled on the sofa, thinking up ways to seduce the handsome Slytherin. She was so absorbed by her task that she barely noticed when Draco walked through the portrait hole and only realised his presence when he let the door bang closed. He was delivered a loud scream in return.

"Draco, don't do that to me!" She said shrilly, holding a hand to her heaving chest.

The blond snickered.

"Wanker." Hera grumbled, shifting her body into a sitting position and accidentally knocking Colin's letter of the sofa arm. She flopped herself over the armrest and reached her arms out, pouting when they couldn't stretch far enough to get a purchase on the parchment.

"What's this?" Draco asked curiously, stalking forward to snatch the letter away from her grabby fingers. Hera huffed and returning to a more comfortable, half-reclined position as her co-head read over her mail.

"Sounds like you're planning a rendezvous with Creevey, too." Draco drawled, dropping the parchment onto the coffee table.

"For once, it's actually not like that. I told you before: Colin and I are in a photography competition. I'm modelling for him." She explained proudly. "He gave me that coat last week – the pretty white one."

"The polar bear skin?"

"It's not a polar bear!" Hera exclaimed, throwing a cushion at Draco's head. To her amusement, it connected with his face and messed up his hair on impact. She snorted as he scowled at her, trying to smooth the errant blond hairs back down.

"Maybe Colin should take pictures of you and your hair." Hera managed to get out between peals of laughter. "You're such a girl about it."

"I am not. I just like to look presentable!" Draco defended himself.

Hera raised an eyebrow sardonically.

"You take forty minutes to get ready every morning."

The cushion flew across the distance between them and landed solidly against the sofa back as Hera ducked out of its trajectory.

"Come and watch." Hera suggested. "You can help us out this afternoon – if you feel brave enough to enter such ridiculously Gryffindor territory."

Draco looked uncertain, but gave a noncommittal grunt in reply.

OoO

"Lava -lamps."

Hera gave the password, Draco standing a little way behind her, and the pair entered Gryffindor Tower to be greeted by Colin, who had set up near the window. He was mildly surprised to see Malfoy, but recovered quickly as he handed Hera a list of spells, with scribbled drawings to show what style each one created.

"We don't have the time or the resources to be doing your hair by hand," Colin explained. "But these are some of the styles I'd like to try and photograph – feel free to add your own."

The sixth year smiled, and led them over to the window. Hera glanced over the paper; some of the styles were quite lovely and complicated, but others were just plain ridiculous – one looked as if it were from the regency period, with an enormous dome on top of the head.

"I've some better ideas." Draco said, looking over her shoulder. He pointed at the second last picture with an almost disbelieving grimace. "_That_ is truly horrendous."

Colin's list was systematically worked through over the first forty minutes, and then Draco took over the hair styling, giving a more artistic swing to things. Some were more natural than others, but Hera had to admit that he knew his way around hair and hair products.

Again, the photoshoot was successful – Hera quite enjoyed the pampering nature of having her hair done for her – and when it was over, she sent the two boys a dazzling smile and explained that she had some planning to do; an extra-curricular project, she explained. With a wink, and two air kisses beside their cheeks, she was out the door and out of sight.

Draco stared at the empty space, having made a rather educated guess at what this plan entailed, and he was thrown from his solemn, disapproving reverie by Colin, who cleared his throat suddenly.

"Yes, Creevey?" He enquired in his usual drawl. Colin just smiled, having seen the blond play hairdresser really put a dampener on the veiled threats he employed in speech.

"How much do you know about this new Hermione?" Colin asked out of the blue.

Draco looked up sharply. "Excuse me?"

"Don't deny it; that reaction already confirmed what I'd already guessed. At the moment, I'm just curious."

"Tell me what you've guessed and I might consider reviewing my experiences." Draco bartered, unwillingly intrigued that the Gryffindor had picked up on something not even the teachers were aware of in Hermione Granger's strange behaviour.

"I've known Hermione for a while now, and I've been taking photos for even longer." Colin filled in the silence, moving over to where his equipment was laid out. He opened a shoebox that was overflowing with pictures.

With precision, he pulled out a number of pictures that showed Hermione, either in a portrait, a candid, or group shot.

"Can you spot the difference?" Colin asked.

Draco could. Hermione's eye colour changed when Hera was in control, and Colin had documented proof. He must have, too, noticed the change in personality, or the eye colour wouldn't have been considered a big deal, and Draco had to applaud the Gryffindor's observation skills.

"Congratulations, Creevey. I'd begun to think that there wasn't a Gryffindor left who could see beyond the obvious." Draco said without the snarky undertones. "It's her eyes."

"Yes. I'm just not entirely sure why – or how." Colin said, and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Any helpful hints?"

"You _are_ cluey." Draco said, not without some admiration. He paused. "Actually, now that I think about it, you haven't called her Hermione once within my earshot. I think you've at least half figured it out yourself."

"Well, she is very definitely _not_ Hermione when her eyes are gold."

"Very true." Draco agreed, looking over the pictures. "These are really very good, Creevey." He added sincerely, looking up at the younger student.

"Thanks." Colin flushed a little at the compliment, but wasn't sidetracked. "So, can you tell me about our Head Girl?"

"Alright." Draco conceded, placing the images on the table and taking a seat. Colin followed his example. "When she came back from the hospital, her eyes were gold. She was, as you deftly put it, _very_ _definitely_ _not_ Hermione."

"How could you tell?" Colin interrupted. "I mean, you didn't really know her that well – at least, not then."

Draco stared the other boy straight in the eye. "Oh, I was pretty sure. I might be Merlin's gift to witches, but Hermione Granger would never have come onto me – especially when she'd been prancing around in lingerie through the Commons."

Draco didn't miss the slight narrowing of Colin's eyes; anger – possibly tinged with jealousy. He continued lightly. "We were both right. It isn't Hermione. She has what is known as Multiple Personality Disorder – the golden eyed girl is her alter ego. Hera."

Colin looked disbelieving, but the younger boy shook his head as if to clear it and returned his gaze to the Slytherin.

"Of all the reasons I've thought of, I hadn't considered that one." The sixth year admitted. "So, Hera is golden eyed… and she is in control now?"

Draco nodded.

"And Hera is rather more, erm, flighty?"

Draco looked amused. "How about 'Hera is a sexual deviant, with a tongue piercing and a tattoo that Hermione Granger probably regrets'."

Colin's face transformed to hybrid expression of mild disgust and intrigue and a little bit of something else.

"A tattoo?"

"It's huge, and in a place not many would see." Draco explained, and saw Colin's eyes flash with jealous anger once again. Well, that was interesting.

"Sexual deviant, huh?" Colin practically spat. "Is that personal experience coming through."

Draco sighed. "I've managed to remove her attentions. It's disconcerting, and I've interacted with Hermione since her parents' deaths, and we are reaching a very tentative positive acquaintance, as opposed to our previous arch-enemy status. I have no desire to ruin that."

Colin looked mildly assured by that, so Draco figured he'd cause a small disturbance, taking a guess at the other emotion in Colin's eyes.

"I don't mind her company – and besides, Hera has plenty of other options."

Yes, there it was. The mention of Hermione – or her alter ego – brought out a definite flicker of fondness in Colin's eyes. How intriguing.

"Who?"

It wasn't spoken remotely like a question – more a statement.

Draco was getting more enjoyment out of this than he should have been, so he answered. "Boot, for certain. I believe she's looking at Baddock, too – the minx."

Colin slumped somewhat at that; Malcolm Baddock was in his year, and it was no secret that very nearly all the girls, from all the houses, reckoned he was a dish. It was the eyes, they said, they were so blue, they pierced the very soul. Girls were keen on that kind of romantic, irrational, verbal slosh.

"Don't worry, mate. Hera's a bit of a bitch. Hermione will be back in business in no time." Draco consoled him adroitly.

"That's part of the problem, though," Colin said, defeated and dropping his forehead to the wooden table. "I don't mind Hera, either."

"Well, that's alright. They're the same person. Sort of." Draco said helpfully.

Colin looked up at him wryly, and when he spoke, his voice was muffled. "Wonderful. I can pine pathetically over her and get a two-for-one without cheating on her in my mind."

Draco laughed – loud and long – with Colin joining in moments later at the absurdity of it all.

"Pathetic, indeed." Draco murmured with smile.

He hadn't ever imagined that he'd ever have a reason to be in the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower for a purpose other than mischief (and even then he'd never had the desire); and he certainly hadn't considered the idea of enjoying a conversation and an entire afternoon with two members of that same House.

Extending a hand of truce and conviviality to the Gryffindor, he quirked a smile. "I like you, Creevey. You're not such an idiot after all."

"You're not so bad yourself, Malfoy." Colin said with a grin, and shook the proffered hand firmly.

OoO

Hera didn't know a lot about Malcolm Baddock, Sixth Year Slytherin, but what she did know was that he had gorgeous eyes, with lashes longer than any girl she knew, and a lithe shape accentuated by his handsome features. Quite frankly, she didn't care about much else, except, perhaps, whether she could make him interested in a bit of a fling.

Another thing she hadn't known, after getting changed into her preferred style of dress, was where she might find the Slytherin sixth year, but that was rectified when she spotted a group of girls in the green hemmed uniform walking down the corridor. If you can't find them, stalk them, she laughed to herself.

The route to the Slytherin abode was remarkably quick, and she kept to the shadows, considering how best to approach her target. On the one hand, she could wait – but that mightn't prove fruitful, and it was cold in the dungeons. On the other hand, she could disillusion herself and find her way inside after the next individual to open the portrait hole.

She smirked; that was an excellent plan. What a surprise that would be for Baddock: coming to bed in his supposedly empty dormitory to find it, oh, inhabited by a scantily clad Head Girl and a curious promise.

So that was what she did.

Luckily, the wait wasn't as long as she was anticipating it to be, and only twenty-three minutes later, one of the gaggling girls left to collect a book from the library. Hera slipped by her, using all her stealth and being grateful to the fact that most Slytherins spent their holidays in foreign countries and winter homes, rather than the school.

There were a number of staircases, and they bore fancy gold plates that dictated what year's rooms were where. Helpful for intruders, Hera thought sardonically.

She climbed the sixth year stairway, and perused the first dorm experimentally, and discovered it was the girls' - unless one of Baddock's roommates was keen on magazines that displayed the lead singer of the Weird Sisters wearing tight leather pants, tantalisingly revealing his chest hair and winking at readers.

Hera was pretty certain this was the girls' dormitory.

She headed across the corridor to find Baddock's room, and was pleased to count one open and haphazardly packed trunk – unpacked, rather – with the label M T Baddock visible on the side.

"Perfect." She congratulated herself, and got herself settled.

First, she went through Baddock's trunk, seeing if there was anything indicating a girlfriend, and came out feeling even more pleased than before when there wasn't, then she had a brief scout over his bedside table. Nothing of particular interest there, though she stole one of his breath mints.

Removing the charm, she felt the peculiar sensation reverse itself and once she'd lost her clothing (at least the skirt and blouse) she sprawled out on the large bed, smelling Baddock's deodorant and natural scent off his sheets. It was kind of nice; comforting and male – everything she liked.

OoO

Hera waited for another half hour, pondering future escapades and wondering if there were any Hufflepuffs that she should bother seducing, when an unfamiliar sound broke through her thoughts. Quickly, she positioned herself in the centre of the bed, hoping that Baddock might make his appearance.

As luck would have it, the handsome teen did indeed come through the doorway; the Slytherin halted a little way inside the door when he caught sight of her. Hera had chosen a black and amber corset that pushed her breasts up, with matching, frilly bottoms and her favourite, thigh high, white stocking socks with little bows. She hadn't bothered with shoes this time.

Baddock had paused just inside the door, and after the initial look of surprise, he had schooled his features into a less discernible expression, slowing raising his hand to shut the door and flick the lock.

"Well, well. Good evening, Head Girl." He drawled pleasantly, letting his ice-blue eyes linger over her legs and the tattoo that wrapped one thigh before they coasted up the curving planes of her body to her face.

She smirked lazily, delighting in his perusal. "Evening, Baddock."

OoO

Hera woke up to a pair of slender arms wrapped tightly around her waist, warm breath tickling the nape of her neck. She stretched as well as she was able under the restriction of bed sheets and limbs and turned to face her bedfellow. Baddock was still asleep, his long lashes resting on his cheeks, and his brown hair was prettily mussed – though she was sure he wouldn't appreciate the adjective.

She slithered out of his embrace, kissed him full on the mouth, pulling away just as he started to wake up to tug on her under garments and skirt. She grabbed his shirt from its precarious position hanging off the neighbouring bedpost and buttoned it up, gathering her remaining things and headed to the door. She blew him a kiss and vanished, performing a disillusionment charm to escape the Common Room and silently make her way back to her own rooms.

The portrait closed quietly, and she was startled badly when Draco's voice cut through the morning.

"Well, Hera. How goes The Seduction of Malcolm Baddock?" He asked. It was clear he wasn't impressed. She turned to face him, aloof.

"Successful – as of the last twelve hours, Draco, darling." She answered snarkily. "I even brought a trophy back with me." She gestured to the blue shirt she was currently sporting with a smirk.

Draco's expression softened mildly. "Hera, you really shouldn't do this. It can't be good for you to be running around and having it off with anybody and everybody."

Hera's eyes hardened defiantly.

"Your two puppies come back today, too. I don't know how you expect to be dallying around with that pair at your heels all day." Draco continued, walking fully into the Commons.

The brunette's eyes flickered at the mention of Harry and Ron, and she hissed sharply as the brown colouring infiltrated the golden hue. Draco inched forward in confusion, as if to help her, but, as suddenly as the fit had happened, Hermione was standing straight once more and her brown eyes looked over to her co-Head.

**Another chapter, with some (hopefully) interesting insights into a couple of our characters… Hermione's back – at least for the moment – and Hera's been on a rampage with the boys… we'll have to see how Hermione manages that side of things. Ha.**


	6. VI

**Chapter Six, my little leprechauns! Gaawsh, I hope you enjoy this chapter :D**

**DISCLAIMERS ARE HERE TO STAY. Yeah, I'm just a mere flobberworm compared to JK's Phoenix of Glory. **

"Hermione?" Draco asked cautiously. "Are you You, or Hera?"

"It's me. Hermione, I mean." She responded, glancing around in an attempt to catch her bearings. "What day is it? Harry and Ron…?"

"They're coming back tomorrow. It's the last day of break." Draco answered her. "How are you?"

She glanced up at him for a moment, revealing tired eyes but an otherwise healthy visage.

"Okay." Hermione nodded, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than reassure her co-head.

"Yes, I'm okay. I feel alright." She said with more conviction, and released a long breath to smile shakily at Draco. "Care to fill me in on what's been happening?"

"Sit down." Draco ordered her first of all, directing her to the couch. "This is so strange. I feel like I know you now, but it's not quite true, because I know Hera, and she isn't you at all-"

"What's she done?" Hermione interrupted fearfully.

"Well, she's been relatively quiet from what I can gather - in the sense that she reckons she's holding back." Draco said by way of explanation. "She's been hanging around with Boot a lot, though. And Baddock's been her fixation for a while. On the plus side, she's been pretty cool towards me and Colin."

"Colin?" Hermione shot a peculiar look at Draco, scrunching her face in disbelief. "Creevey? You've been hanging around with Colin?"

"He's not a stupid as I initially thought. Quite the opposite, in fact." Draco stated, unwilling to say anymore on the topic. "But the three of us are… only almost friends."

"Almost friends?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a recent development." Draco informed the Head Girl. "Though Hera has been conversing with Colin for a while now – she's modelling for him. It's a competition, I believe." Draco stared at Hermione, going over her features and the slight differences between Hera and Hermione in his mind. It was such a peculiar occurrence.

Hermione felt a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny and coughed to get his attention.

"Excuse me," he apologised. "Anyhow, that's the only changes, really. She's been harrying Baddock for a little while, but she came back this morning with her souvenir from his rooms – that isn't one of your shirts, you'll notice." The glare he sent towards the fireplace indicated his disapproval of that relationship. "And Boot, well, she's been hovering over him since the very start."

Hermione looked mortified, registering just what she was wearing.

"Oh my God." She moaned in a low voice. "Are you…mostly…sure that it's just the two of them?"

Her eyes were wide, and even if Draco had known of any others, he probably wouldn't have wanted to tell her, just because she looked so horrified.

"Positive."

There was silence for several minutes, before Hermione spoke once again.

"This is the worst part – cleaning up the messes she's made for me." She grumbled forlornly, staring out the window as she clutched a cushion to her chest. Draco got up and walked over to her tired form.

"Get some sleep, Hermione." Draco told her kindly, escorting her into her bedroom. "I hope you stick around for a while; you might be a know-it-all, but you're a lot less trouble."

She didn't hear the second part, because she'd already drifted half to sleep the moment he'd set her down on the bed.

OoO

At breakfast, Hermione blushed red and refused to meet the eyes of either of her alter egos conquests. Draco obliged her by distracting her mind with intriguing conversation while Colin barricaded her in on the other side. The younger boy also kindly showed her some of the pictures he had taken with Hera, and Hermione actually found herself quite happy with the result – and rathe grateful for the tasteful way he'd managed it (she'd almost expected Hera to be flouncing about half-naked, as she was wont to do).

The train was due at two forty in the afternoon, and Hermione had decided to hole herself up in her rooms until then, lest she might run into Baddock or Boot; Draco had smirked, but, to his credit, said nothing of her un-Gryffindor-ish behaviour. They sat together on the couch, going over the last of their homework and reading through text books – boring work, Draco announced, though Hermione felt a great deal more comfortable involved in her books than wandering the hallways.

When she did chance a venture outside, it was just her luck that the stairs chose that precise moment to change, leading her towards Ravenclaw tower instead of the entrance hall.

"Oh, bollocks." Hermione ejaculated under her breath, playing with the tongue piercing between her teeth for several seconds in indecision about whether she should wait on the steps or climb off and take another route.

"Hermione!" A male voice called, and Hermione immediately felt as if she were flailing about in heavy waters, while her clothing pulled her down into the murky depths. She turned reluctantly.

"Hi." She responded meekly as Terry, with his tall and broad frame, meandered down from the Ravenclaw Common Room. She glanced at the blue hair that peeked out from under the brown, and smiled faintly. Hera always picked quirky ones. They were undeniably handsome, yes, but always a little quirky.

"Coming to see me?" He asked, grinning mischievously while he leaned his shoulder casually against the wall at the top of the stairs. "I'm touched."

"Erm," said Hermione, panicking a little at the sudden ambushing. "Perhaps."

Stick with wishy-washy answer and he'll be none the wiser, Hermione thought, mentally crossing her fingers. And toes.

"I haven't seen you much the last few days." Terry grinned as she awkwardly climbed the stairs towards him. "Do I get an osculatory apology?"

"Do you deserve one?"

"I think I've been exceptionally well-behaved lately."

"Do you now; and if I thought otherwise?"

Internally, Hermione's mind was racing. It was rather a shocking thing to have one partner behind in the first three stages of a relationship, and she felt bad because it really wasn't Terry's fault at all – Hera had seduced him, and he believed that Hera was Hermione and, oh! It was all so complicated.

While ensconced in her thoughts, she had climbed to the top of the stairs and suddenly Terry seemed very close. In fact, it was he that closed the distance between them, and Hermione was almost certain, had she been a part of this relationship from the beginning, that she would have swooned – because Terry Boot was quite the kisser, and he was intelligent and handsome, too.

Hera's presence was forcing itself into her awareness, but she held on tight and managed to quell the uprising within her. It helped that there existed an awkwardness (on Hermione's part) stemming from the realisation that _Hera_ had been dallying around with the poor boy; Hermione felt like a bit of a con-woman.

Thankfully, Boot's eyes were closed, and Hermione kept her hands to herself, making sure she wasn't encouraging any more than she was willing to take.

When he stepped away, he offered that she could join him in the library, but she declined with an obscure and confusing excuse and watched him vanish down the staircase, the spread-winged eagle splaying its feathers behind her in a trick of the light as if she were a winged angel.

A soft flash went off, and the boy behind the camera noticed the troubled frown on the angel's face and the way her eyes showed brown irises over gold.

OoO

Precisely on time, the train pulled into the station and the large majority of students alighted from the carriages among a flurry of conversations and fights about who would get into the first of the waiting Thestral-pulled coaches.

Hermione was fretting, and in the end Draco had all but shoved her outside to go and meet her boys at the halfway point, so she might save the carpet in their Commons from being worn out with her pacing, and that was how she found herself being jostled by students as she waited for Harry and Ron to appear.

"Hermione!" Ron suddenly roared over the din of the students and owls. "Stay there!"

She caught sight of his red locks and tall frame before seeing the top of Harry's messy hair beside him. The seventh year waved and waited for them to make their way over, having to fight their way past all the younger students who were just milling around and chatting to their friends.

"How are you both?" Hermione asked, pleased to have her two friends back at Hogwarts, while she divvied out hugs.

"Good." Harry answered, holding her close. "How are you, though?"

The question was loaded, full of concern and wanting to know whether there was anything he or Ron could do for her. Harry understood grieving well enough to approach it tactfully.

"I'm okay, Harry." She said with a small smile. It didn't hurt as much now. While Hera may have caused a mess, the time away from reality had allowed Hermione to put her thought where they should be, and pull herself together so that she could go on.

Neville dragged his trunk noisily over to where they'd clustered themselves off to the side, breaking the vaguely melancholy air about them. He'd grown again – he was now taller than Ron – and had rosy, pink spots on his cheeks from the chilly weather.

"Hi, Hermione," he greeted, dropping the old trunk which clanged upon impact with the concrete. "Happy Christmas."

It was mostly due to the cold that she reached out and hugged him like she had Harry and Ron – she normally wouldn't have done so – and when she wrapped her coat covered arms around him she felt Hera in her mind fighting for dominance.

The two seconds where Hera broke through saw her direct a hand into Neville's back pocket, but Hermione forced herself back into control and pulled away just as Neville jerked himself back from her – Hera's – exploring hands. Doing her best to act like nothing had happened, Hermione couldn't stop the slight pink tinge from coating her cheeks – she hoped that the cold wind would disguise it or at least take the blame. Rallyingly, she blurted, "Well, come on then; let's get back into the warm!" and marched back towards the castle, valiantly hiding her embarrassment.

Once all the boys' belongings had been laid out for the term, the Trio parked themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room before the roaring fire that had been built up.

"Finchwhistle broke his collarbone and dislocated his shoulder in the fall, but he's adamant that it wasn't a professional foul from Flint." Ron was saying, while Hermione tried valiantly to listen to the conversation. Quidditch bored her. Or at least, endless discussions about Quidditch injuries bored her.

"As if – Flint's been fouling players since he played for the Slytherin House team." Harry argued, and Hermione decided she'd had enough. Standing to leave, she considered interrupting them to say goodbye but then changed her mind, merely calling out 'see you at dinner' when she approached the portrait hole. She never made it out though, because Colin caught her attention with a shout and beckoned her over to the corner desk he was working at, papers spread haphazardly across it.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "So, I was wondering whether you wanted some copies of the photos I've taken so far?"

"Sure – yeah, that'd be wonderful." Hermione replied, curious to see what Hera had been doing in her spare time.

A box was produced from under the table, and he laid out the images for her to choose, if she liked. Her hand drifted over them, and she was looking thoughtful as she saw them for the first time; they were pretty and arty, and were – for the most part – very flattering. She collected the ones that took her fancy, thanked Colin, had enough wits to ask if the next theme had come through (he said nay), before high-tailing it back to her rooms.

On the way there she felt as there were eyes on her, but when she looked around there was nobody.

She found Draco with his broom kit open on the table when she entered, and he looked up as the portrait closed.

"Back already?" The blond asked with a friendly smirk.

"They're stuck on Quidditch." She explained, dropping onto the couch after dumping her gloves and things on the coffee table. "I spoke to Colin though."

"Oh?"

"About the modelling. He gave me some pictures." She picked them up, perusing them casually and Draco wandered over for a gander. "They're really very good."

Draco gave a non-committal response by way of a hum in the back of his throat, but when she flipped to one of the snow pictures he stilled the hand that was flipping through them.

"That's a nice one." He told her with approval. Hermione smiled despite herself, carefully putting the photos back on the table.

"I ran into Terry Boot this morning. I didn't tell you before." She said quietly.

"What did you do?" Draco asked, seating himself on the coach as well. "Tell him the truth?"

Hermione snorted. "Yeah, that'd go down well. I'd sound like a massive liar: 'I'm breaking up with you because you were actually dating my alter ego, and she's not in control at the moment, so see you later, sorry for the inconvenience!'" She informed the blond and then blushed lightly. "He kind of…kissed me though."

"And?"

"It wasn't bad, but I didn't want to, erm, lead him on or anything so I kind of just stood there."

Draco looked amused. "That'll confuse him. Hera's normally pretty touchy-feely."

"I considered telling him, but I felt bad for him."

"Drop him for Baddock, then. It's as good an excuse as any, and then you can cut off Baddock as well, and you're nice and single again." Draco offered, tapping his slender fingers on the arm of the couch.

"Doesn't that kind of make me look rather promiscuous?" Hermione replied, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Hera was _rather_ promiscuous." He pointed out.

"Tell me about it." Hermione sighed defeatedly. "She's been fighting to get back in control but it's confined to when I have contact with boys. I hugged Neville and she was all for copping a feel."

"Longbottom?" Draco looked incredulous. "I thought she had good taste?"

"Leave him alone." She roused on her Co-Head. "Anyway, I think you'll find she's fairly unselective with men, as long as they're tall; and she likes unusual features – teeth and piercings and dyed hair are her favourites, but Baddock's eyes are another example."

Hermione sank further into the cushions, thinking up ways she could kindly, gently sever relationships with the boys Hera had been cultivating in her absence.

**Another chapter done, and Hermione's having to deal with Hera's mess. More trouble is brewing though, because Hera doesn't like being shut off from the world. Also to feature will be the Prefects bathroom, because what is a fic without that glorious location? =P I adore that bathroom. I want one.**


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